


a little curious, too

by averagefaces



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: M/M, Thighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averagefaces/pseuds/averagefaces
Summary: It's not a kink. It's not. Chansung's done his research. It's most definitely not a kink.





	a little curious, too

**Author's Note:**

> published november 2015. revised march 2017. reposted january 2019.  
> this is a work of fiction, no harm intended to any parties involved. please do not repost/copy or translate without permission; you're welcome to share this link. thank you for reading!

 

It's not a kink. It's not. Chansung's done his research. It's most definitely  _ not  _ a kink.

"You totally have a thigh kink," Junho says, a breathy thing over the sound of the TV show they were watching five minutes ago. He's clutching at the sheets with one hand and at Chansung's hair with the other, cheeks flushed when Chansung looks up at him from his current position: braced in between Junho's bare thighs, his mouth hovering over the inside of Junho's knee.

(Okay, maybe it is.)

"Do not," he mumbles, and Junho laughs, loud and breathless, whole chest moving.

"Do too—  _ fuck _ ." He lifts his head from the pillow to glare down at Chansung. It lacks fire, though, with how he's biting his lip and the flush on his cheeks and neck expands down the pale skin on his chest. "No biting. No bruising. You know the rules."

Chansung gives him a flat look and brings his mouth back down again, traces the dip of muscle when Junho clenches his thighs and braces his weight on his feet, when he locks his knees or tries to hold his hips down. He's naked, bare under Chansung's hands and eyes and mouth, disheveled and ruined.

Granted, all Chansung wanted was to watch a movie and maybe have an ice-cream coma, but Junho'd been too tired after recording to lie on the couch and had instead offered his bed. Chansung'd only taken the offer because—well.

Junho's bed is big and has a nice bounce to it.

How'd Junho ended up naked and Chansung's shirt had found its way across the room is beyond them, really. It's one of those things that just happen, Chansung guesses, and the skin under his mouth trembles, Junho's thighs spreading further apart.

"You gonna get on with it, or what?" Junho mumbles from up the bed, propped up on one of his elbows, looking down at Chansung with half a dare in his eyes.

"I'm already on it," Chansung says, holding Junho's gaze while dropping another kiss on the inside of Junho's right thigh. "Are you in a rush or something? Got some place to be?"

Junho's lips twitch into a smile. "Nope. Right where I'm meant to be, right now."

"Good," Chansung breathes, already too strung-up himself. "The shut up and lemme enjoy this."

"What about what  _ I  _ want, Chansung, huh, what about  _ my needs _ ?" Junho's voice is teasing and full of pent-up laughter and just for that, Chansung closes his teeth on the skin behind Junho's right knee, makes Junho arch up off the bed and close both fists on the bed-spread, mouth open obscenely around a moan.

Chansung sucks a bruise there, a clear, loud  _ fuck the rules and fuck them hard _ on Junho's pale skin, and then moves up, traces the inside of Junho's thigh with the tip of his tongue, drags his bottom lip over the wet trail just to hear Junho gasp and moan and break apart above, Chansung's name hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know you're leavin' bruises," Junho half-gasps half-moans at the ceiling, his chest moving slowly through measured breaths. "I know you are and I know you're enjoyin' it and I fuckin' love it."

Smiling against the top of Junho's right thigh, Chansung curls his hands around the back of both of Junho's knees and spreads his legs even further apart, makes Junho let out this high-pitched whine while holding the base of his cock, and just watches. Junho's right thigh is blooming with not-really-there-yet hickeys, dots of pink adorning the inside of it. It sends shivers down his back, the whole thing: how hard it's making him in his pants and how hard it's making Junho, who's still holding onto his dick and breathing hard and labored, closer to coming than Chansung wants him to be.

"Fuck, come on," Junho rasps, their eyes locking, and Chansung's mouth waters at the sight Junho makes as a  whole: wanton and desperate and flushed from cheeks to navel, cock hard between his legs, one thigh already breaking in purpling marks while the other one remains unmarked, pale and inviting.

He switches his attention to it, pale skin stretching beautifully under his mouth, and Chansung could do this for hours, for  _ days _ if he had his way, just kissing and licking and biting at hard skin, both his hands still hooked on Junho's knees, keeping him open, bare. Junho's cupping his balls now, softly kneading at them while stroking his cock painfully slow, hand covered in lube. Where he got it from and when, Chansung doesn't know and honestly speaking, his mouth is way too busy to even ask.

Chansung works on the bruises as if he were putting lyrics to a song. He tries different ways, more teeth, less suction, less teeth, tries different shapes and directions and spots, more suction, more tongue, more lips, more, more, more, and Junho whines and arches above him, whispers Chansung's name like he's dying, like he's coming. Except Chansung knows he isn't because Junho tends to go tight all over when he does, and right now the skin under Chansung's mouth is trembling and relaxing, trembling and relaxing, over and over and over, matching the tempo of the sounds making their way past Junho's lips.

He starts sucking his way up, leaves a small constellation of tiny marks on the top of Junho's thigh, right where the skin stretches into his hip-bones, and it makes Junho moan louder, harder, closer. Chansung looks up to watch him bite his lip raw, sweat shining off the top of his cheeks and the crook of his collar bones; Chansung wants to lick it off, wants to come on Junho's chest and lick that off, too.

"Want you to kiss me," Junho gasps, one hand curling on Chansung's shoulder, nails digging in.

Chansung complies, crawls the expanse of Junho's body between his thighs and his mouth and kisses him, licks his mouth open and fucks his tongue into Junho's mouth, makes Junho arch into him, both hands now clutching at Chansung's shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises there. He pulls away barely an inch, mutters "take off your fuckin' pants, goddammit," and kisses Chansung again, harder, deeper.

It's harder than it should be, kicking his pants off without straying too far away from Junho's mouth. He manage to do it only because Junho helps out, shoving Chansung's pants and boxers down his calves with his toes, and then—finally, fucking finally—they're both naked, Junho's scorching skin under Chansung's slightly-less-warm one.

Their cocks slide together easily, Junho's still lubed and Chansung's wet with a mix of pre-come and sweat. Junho holds onto him with both hands on his shoulder blades, thrusts up when Chansung thrusts down, and it'd be perfect, beautiful, if he'd be fucking up into Chansung rather than what they're doing now, but they're too far gone to slow down now. Chansung traces the back of Junho's ear, pulls away to kiss his way down Junho's jaw, where he actually can't leave bruises, not tonight and not ever, and sneaks a hand in between them.

Junho arches into him, his blunt nails digging into Chansung's side as Chansung's fist closes around his dick, and his breath stutters, catches, looking up at Chansung through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown to shit even in the dim light of his side-lamp. Chansung lets his forehead drop on Junho's, watches Junho lick his lips and let out this quiet, whiny ' _ ah, ah, ah _ 's, more air than sound at this point. Chansung strokes him tightly, once, twice, draws circles on the slit at the tip, and Junho loses it, arching his back and burying his head deeper into the pillow so their foreheads aren't pressed together anymore and Junho's actually panting, hard and ragged, against Chansung's temple.

He shakes and shakes, moaning loud and high-pitched, still clutching onto Chansung's back, and Chansung kisses his slack lips as he jerks him off through it, his fingers wet with Junho's come, kisses the side of his mouth, the hinge of his jaw, the side of his throat.

Junho finds his mouth again, licks his way inside like he's searching for something, like he's not backing down until he finds it, and Chansung shivers on top of him, lets go of Junho's dick to drop down on him instead, pressed together from mouths to knees. Junho's hands travel south, slide hot and heavy down the curve of Chansung's lower back, murmuring "what do you want, tell me what you want, I'll give you anything, I promise, tell me," in between kisses, in between biting at Chansung's lower lip and trying to suck bruises right there.

Chansung moans at the back of his throat, says, "I wanna—" but can't finish, too distracted by Junho's tongue in his mouth, Junho's thigh—freckled with bruises—sliding hot between Chansung's.

"Do it," Junho says, one of his hands fitting under Chansung's ribs, the other one on his lower back, and then he's arching his knee a little, his thigh right up against Chansung's cock, "do it, come on, I want you to, please," and Chansung thrusts, once, carefully, almost crazy with how much he wants to do it again.

Chansung gets off like this, with his mouth on Junho's and his cock sliding wet against Junho's thigh. He rides it like his life's depending on it, shivers when Junho gets a hold of the tube of lube and drops some on his hand and then rubs it down the length of his thigh, his knuckles against Chansung's cock and a smirk on his mouth. He sucks Chansung's tongue into his mouth, matches the tempo of Chansung's hips, and lifts his arms over his head to find Chansung's clutching at the pillow under his head, slides his fingers in between Chansung's and squeezes.

Chansung comes like this, loose and slow and bright behind his eyelids, Junho's thigh hitching higher up and pressing right against his balls, and Chansung mewls, his chest expanding on top of Junho's as he moans a breathless moan, his mouth right there to catch it, tightening his fingers around Junho's until the tightness in his chest eases a little.

"Damn," Junho mumbles in between the both of them trying to catch their breath. "You're heavy as all fucks."

Chansung grins, feeling soft around the edges, almost high. He rolls to the side with a sigh, feeling his muscles loose enough to try stretching. He drops his head on a fresh pillow and smiles, his hot cheek feeling like heaven on the cool case.

"That was good," Junho says, and his hand falls on Chansung's hip, warm and reassuring. "Never mind I'm covered in come and sweat. And bruises all over my thighs. You  _ so _ have a thigh kink, don't even try to deny it."

Chansung props himself up on one elbow and peeks down at Junho's thighs. Even from where he is he can see the hickeys he made, can trace the path his mouth followed. He touches one carefully, fingertip barely there, and Junho hisses out a breath.

He slaps Chansung's hand away. "Shut up, no, I need a twenty minute break and maybe a three hour nap before the next round. Also, a shower. Showers are good." Junho looks smug, which is a good look on him on top of the whole fucked-and-ruined look he's got right now.

"Fine," Chansung says, trying not to smile as he drops down his head back on the bed, "see you in three hours and twenty minutes."

"Asshole," Junho sighs.

Chansung grins against the pillow.

  
  


**_the end._ **


End file.
